nonsensical leaps, left field conclusions and inspired wanderings, all made possible by creating a playing field, choosing the players, creating circumstance, and ultimately letting go of the outcome. For this piece, I prepared a shipping container, put myself into it, gave myself environment (lights, sound), and with the information gathered over the prep time, combined with directorial input from Lindsay and inspiration from the song used, let the movement surface out of that. Could features an unspoken dialogue between two selves, urging the viewers to question : what were your aesthetic decisions when conceiving the choreography and what did you aim at triggering in your spectatorship? Regarding the notion of identity: I’m a twin in real life (fraternal, not identical). Having an equal by my side at all times for the first 20 years of my life (we’ve lived in different cities for almost two decades now) has had a palpable influence on my art, not to mention my day to day life. In this film, I’m my own twin/triplet, playing with the idea of conversing with different aspects of myself as if they were individual persons. It raises the questions of Who am I talking to exactly? Who is listening? Which of these is the real me? Full well knowing the answers (me, myself and I, respectively), it is a fun and interesting thought exercise, not to mention a striking visual end product. As for the aesthetic decisions of the choreography, one of the main influences was the muscle memory of having spent so much time painting the interior of the container, as well as painting the chair and setting the light. Tedium aside, it was a very satisfying endeavor - I love cleaning and organizing things. For me, the act of painting and cleaning was not just a physical act, but an energetic and spiritual one. I was able to familiarize myself with the space, attend to every square inch of surface, and in doing so, not only wash the
Women Cinemakers interview space with my presence, but create a unique relationship with the container. I’ve observed quite a lot of art that follows the trajectory of order to chaos, that explores the dismemberment of the whole, and revels in the beauty of disorder, commotion. While I appreciate these works, my work tends to gravitate toward the opposite: fixing up, tidying, decluttering, squaring up corners, lining up edges. That being said, the peace and tranquility of solid colors, clean lines, and bright light makes for a great backdrop to analyse and explore the finer, often times messy and disorderly, nuances of the human experience. Marked out with essential and rigorous cinematography by Lindsay Martin, features a keen eye to details and we have really appreciated your successful attempt to capture the resonance between gestures and indoor environment: how do you consider the relationship between space and movement playing within your artistic research? The resonance between gesture and the indoor environment is a rather personal one for me. I’m fascinated with pedestrian movement in general, but especially with movement that comes unconsciously as one delivers speech: how we move when we talk. I grew up bilingual, raised by the latina side of my family. Growing up, I was immersed in a culture that uses their hands to do half the talking. Gesture is an integral, inextricable part of language, of communication and I spent my childhood watching, observing how my family talked to each other. Gesture that exists as a result of communicating is so interesting to me. What is it about language that fails the communicator such that they have to add movement to fill in the blanks, to get the full point across? Is it a failure of the language? Or is it a cultural bent to accent words with a nonverbal dimension? (I have heard one explanation that cultures historically located on trade routes tend to have languages more inclined towards gesture born of the necessity to communicate between many foreign languages). Whatever the full reason, I love the interplay that occurs. Aside from the communication triggered gestures that came naturally to my family because of culture, there was another source of gesture (that I came to recognize later on), one specific to being a foreigner.
Women Cinemakers
Women Cinemakers
Women Cinemakers interview When watching my great aunt speak English, her second language, the gestures were at times a manifestation of the mind grasping for the right word, or for a word that just wasn’t there. It’s movement born from an almost primal impulse, part discomfort (not having full command of the language), part manifestation of the brain scrambling to take circuitous routes in order to connect words into a sentence to get one’s point across. A similar outcome occurs when you engage two people in an exercise of standing face to face and looking each other in the eye for a period of time. The undercurrent of unease (for most) is too much to keep inside and the body begins to respond accordingly with shifting weight, fidgeting and the like. All this observation of gesture occurred indoors, in my own home, specifically, so the link between the two is strong. For this film in particular, the inner feeling of confinement and struggle is mirrored in the tight quarters of the white room, which in turn create feelings of confinement, which in turn are mirrored by the room, which in turn creates feelings of confinement. . . With regards to a playing space in general and its relationship to movement, I find that building a certain level of stewardship to locale, however temporary, is valuable. For me, feeling at home in the space, to feel comfortable, connected, not only allows for ideas to express themselves more freely through movement, but creates an open state of mind with which to respond to whatever the space wants to communicate back to me. To achieve that groundedness in the space, I usually engage in some kind of cleaning ritual, be it sweeping before each show or rehearsal, or doing my own grounding and clearing practice (these days it’s Qi Gong), or just sitting with the space and listening. For this film in particular, it was the solitary process of painting. From there the space becomes more integrated a character rather than just a sterile platform. We have appreciated the way you have provided your short film with such a poetic quality and what has at once impressed us of is the way it brings the nature of relationship between the body and the surroundings to a new level of significance, unveiling the ubiquitous bond between the individual and outside reality. While introducing us to the initial idea of this film, would you tell us how do you consider the relationship between outside reality and our inner landscape?
Women Cinemakers interview One of the inspirations for the film was simply that the container made for such a stark, visually striking setting. Blank pieces of paper or canvases can be intimidating when starting a work of 2D art or a piece of writing, but there was something about having the added element of depth, and of being able to get into the piece of paper that created lots of freedom for exploration. So in essence, the original idea for making a film was really to make use of the set and its strict parameters, to fill the empty box. The set makes me think of this question my old English teacher posed to my class: ‘Imagine yourself in an all white room, alone, no furniture, no windows - How do you feel?’ Your answer is supposed to be indicative of how you feel about death, about dying. (It makes me laugh thinking about the fact that that teacher had a background in psychology and was using this and other in-class ‘thought exercises’ to sneakily psychoanalyse her students.) I’m not sure how much my subconscious thoughts about death specifically influenced the film during the creation process, but the ideas of waiting, of infinite space, of nothing, of being in a situation where there’s not much to do but to ruminate came thru nonetheless. (Side note, my conscious thoughts about death are that it is a physical transformation that the soul/energetic body goes thru. We, our true essence, remain intact.) (Still, the idea terrifies me from time to time.) My thoughts on the specific relationship between inner landscape and outer reality is that one is a microcosm of the other. How we feel inside is largely reflected in our surrounding environment. It’s like how gross human interactions are reflected in smaller group dynamics. Beyond being an interesting parallel, it also serves as a great opportunity for us to analyse and confront and play with bigger ideas and issues that would otherwise be insurmountable. That art can break matters down into bite size pieces is a gift to the human community. French anthropologist and sociologist Marc Augè once suggested the idea that modern age creates two separate poles: nature versus science and culture versus society. As a multidisciplinary artist with a solid scientific background, how would you consider the role of
Women Cinemakers
A still from Women Cinemakers
Women Cinemakers interview an artist in such apparent dichotomies that affect our contemporary age? Whenever I see two words with the joiner ‘versus’ between them, it recalls a frame of mind that puts the two in opposition, on opposite ends of a linear, finite spectrum. I find it to be a limiting and flawed way of thinking in that it doesn’t take into consideration the full, detailed picture. Things, concepts, ideas, solid objects, all have a kind of depth to them, a feature that gets largely omitted when structuring suggestions on opposing poles. We live in the blurred area between A and B, and the blurring begins the instant we step away from either extreme. (Not to mention that A wouldn’t exist without B, so examining either in their pure form requires, minimally, the acknowledgement of B as a framework or backdrop from which to base the very definition of A on.) So I guess my point is ‘Emphasis on apparent’, with regards to ‘apparent dichotomies’. That stance definitely makes things less clear cut, much to the chagrin of my sciencey inclinations, but at the same time, more interesting, and more useful when talking of the human experience, which, goes without saying, is probably the most complex, layered, neither here nor there but everywhere adventure. That being said, the idea of nature vs science makes me think about nature vs nurture and being a twin. Not being an identical twin disqualifies me from a true study (my DNA differs from my sister’s DNA, so for all intents and purposes, we are just sisters), but it’s still an idea that’s near and dear to me. I’ve read arguments from both sides and my takeaway is that both are correct. Basically whatever you chose to focus on is the correct answer. And really, there is no extricating one from the other, and you cannot have one without the other. It’s a fascinating or frustrating caveat, depending on what you majored in in college. With culture vs society, I think about having been brought up Latin@ in a largely white environment (the Pacific Northwest for a good number of the formative years). My home environment differed largely from my school and social environment, but they worked tangentially and I am a product of both. I embody both. I paradoxically feel a both part of and excluded from both.
Women Cinemakers But going back to my initial point, I’m in no way arguing that the dichotomies no not exist, they do, I’m quite aware of it. I more want to emphasize that it’s not an either or situation, it’s an everything all at once situation, indivisible by scrutiny. Dichotomies exist with a dimensionality that is more robust than we give credit to. That we are (I was) brought up to think of things in strictly binary terms is a disservice. As an artist, I have the advantage to being versed in seeing dual (or any multiple of) perspectives simultaneously. I have a foot in two different worlds and I think of the art that I make as the bridge that connects. The way you have sapiently combined your performance and the soundtrack by Elderbrook provides with such an ethereal and a bit enigmatic atmosphere: how do you see the relationship between sound and movement? I’m very deliberate when choosing music and sound to go in a performance. Lindsay brought the Elderbrook song to the table and I was immediately endeared to it, the simplicity, the beat, the subtle urgency of it. It’s very danceable, engaging, without being predictable. In general, I’m of the opinion that a music choice can make or break a piece. Let’s say I watch a dance piece that uses my favorite Radiohead song as the soundtrack. If I’m struck by the work I have to ask myself, Is it the dance I like? Or am I just a really big fan of Radiohead? Sometimes both, sometimes just one. Occasionally neither. Music, especially popular, carries with it a certain amount of baggage. People have their own relationship to music that can be very personal, very subjective, very intense, and they bring those with them to the theater. If an artist is to use a Radiohead song they should ask, Am I OK with bringing up all these unknown associations? Is there a way that I can use as a way to manipulate the audience’s reaction or interpretation of the work? In that vein, and thinking about the experience of a live performance, the quality of the sound can be as much of a factor in the experience as what the sound is. Technical glitches (speakers cutting out or tracks poorly mixed) can be distracting, but those aside, the volume, type of audio sounds, and how it is transmitted are all very influential in creating the atmosphere of the theater. If it’s too loud, there’s a risk of causing discomfort, too quiet and people may miss what is being played; certain pitches or frequencies of notes can really irritate; sometimes a speaker is placed in such a way where only half the room has quality sound. All these are factors, but none out of our control. I think, when used intentionally, they all have the capacity to create effect. Well, actually, they have the capacity to effect no matter what, so in that sense it becomes imperative to take it all into consideration, both as it influences the performer and the audience. I think that the amount of thought and intention put into music/soundscape choices really comes through in performance, be it on stage or on film. As a mover, there are sounds and songs that inspire me to move and many that don’t. It’s very much subjective. I’ll stare at you blankly if you put on a Britney Spears song, but watch out if you play any of Robyn’s hits. Ha. When developing choreography, I find it useful to have notes to hold on to, beats as guideposts, melodies to follow or diverge from. Music acts as something of a coaster to put my brain on, I can set it down and let my non-thinking brain take over. I also take care to not let the music bear too much of the weight of the piece. When fine tuning choreography, I tend to extract phrases from improvised sessions and tease them out without the music, ask myself ‘Is this still interesting without the music?’ In theory, the answer is ‘Yes’. Unless, of course, I’m intentionally trying to be uninteresting. Many artists express the ideas that they explore through representations of the body and by using their own bodies in their creative processes. German visual artist Gerhard Richter once underlined that "it is always only a matter of seeing: the physical act is unavoidable": as a multidisciplinary artist deeply involved in dance, how do you consider the relation between the abstract feature of the concepts you explore in your artistic research and the physical aspect of your practice?
Women Cinemakers I’m quite fond of Gerhard Richter’s work, particularly the stained glass windows he did for the Cologne cathedral. I love churches, and having gone to many a Catholic mass, the images of stained glass are very familiar to me. When I first saw a photo of the Cathedral windows, it almost didn’t register that the work itself was entirely pixelated, my mind saw the colors, the context, and put that together with stored images I had of previous stained glass to complete the picture. It was only after that initial moment passed that I saw what was actually there. The effect of it was quite moving, the windows effortlessly conjuring up concrete images so vividly, only to be waiting for me at the entrance of a room that only I walked into. This craft of allusion, of illusion, is so simple and effective and I love it so. I employ it to the best of my ability with performance with both literal and metaphorical slights of hand, through subtle gesture and sometimes circuitous dialog. When I start to work on a performance, one of the first things I do is to let go of the idea that the audience is going to pick up any and all abstract ideas I put forth (or concrete ideas, for that matter). I focus on making sure that, for myself, the relationship between what is happening on stage and how I got there is clear. If there are concepts or points I want the audience to ‘get’, and if the audience ‘getting it’ is important to the work, then I make sure that I find a delivery method that makes it explicit. I think that is part of why I gravitate towards voice overs and text: I like making a clear point. But text is only one way to make the abstract concrete; so much can be communicated with context, be it the title, the aesthetic elements, the location, the music, the movement, etc. But as intentional as I strive to be, I know that people are going to extract abstract ideas that I had not intended. I invite it and enjoy seeing where people’s minds go and the dots they connect along the way. With how it (abstract) affects the physical aspect of my performing, I’d say it forms the basis of it, the base impulse for movement. Going back to the example of staring a stranger in the eye for an undisclosed amount of time, that (potential) discomfort has the force to move mountains. Any movement that is trying to express discomfort that doesn’t first start with the feeling of discomfort is just mechanical. Just like you can tell when a person is smiling for real or when they are smiling because they have to. That underlying intention, or, for me, that internalized abstraction, is what gives the physical movement its vibrancy. And the physicalities that come out of it are what give the abstractions some form of release, of new life, of greater aliveness and concreteness. Before leaving this interesting conversation so we want to catch this occasion to ask you to express your view on the future of women in contemporary art scene. For more than half a century women have been discouraged from producing something 'uncommon', however in the last decades there are signs that something is changing. How would you describe your personal experience as an unconventional artist? And what's your view on the future of women in this interdisciplinary field? For women in the interdisciplinary field, I think we have an advantage. (I identify as a genderqueer woman and use she/her pronouns, for the record.) Hear me out. So much of our lives, media, culture, religion, the very design of objects, are all made for (and by) men. Most movies are from a male’s perspective, the equipment at the gym is sized for men’s bodies, the grip and placement of doorknobs are sized off of male dimensions. Pretty. Much. Everything is made with men folk in mind. Which makes sense considering that is more often than not who is making the decisions. But it’s problematic, because if you aren’t male bodied or male identified, everything is once removed from being personal, from connecting with you directly. So then there’s an internal compensation that occurs, a translation or transposition of information adjusted to fit your own personal experience. It can get a bit exhausting, and quite frankly annoying (I’ve never read Harry Potter because do I need another young male coming of age story? No.) But the benefits from this constant conversion exercise it is a razor sharp ability to be fluid, empathetic, and be able to hold two (or more) different viewpoints at one time. I’d venture to say that it’s second nature to women, to all persons who don’t identify with the majority, to be able to have a greater perspective, that of a
shapeshifter almost. As a masculine-of-center presenting woman, as a mixed race person, as a queer person, I am versed in viewing the world as not a place for the whole of me. But at the same time, and more importantly, I get to claim ownership to so many both-sides, masculine and feminine, white and brown, hetero and homo. It’s an all access backstage pass, of sorts. Granted, there are certain benefits I do not have access to (those reserved for straight, white males), but being able to walk across divides is its own super power in a way. And makes me, and all women, I would argue, primed to excel at interdisciplinary arts. I can be a visual artist and performer, musician and dancer, theater technician and actor. By taking this ability to translate media to fit my personal experience, I’m able to find ways of making art that comes from personal experience that is not only cohesive, but accessible to audiences. I’ve been fortunate enough to have found myself in a supportive art scene for the past decade or so (Seattle until recently, I just moved to Vancouver, BC to earn my MFA), and gained inspiration from other women artists who bend their art on unconventional seams. But while there has been evidence of change in the art world, there’s still a fortress to be dismantled at the top of the mountain. Some homework I was doing the other day led me to some articles on the LA MoCA gala in 2011, curated by Marina Abramovic, wherein she made a statement about hiring only women to fill the roles of nude performers because the museum wouldn’t allow nude men. I could write 15 pages on that sentence alone, ha, but I’ll keep it mercifully brief: basically, we probably won’t see significant change until the makeup of the powers that be becomes more balanced. That sounds ominous and a potentially depressing. It could happen tomorrow, really. Either way, I’ll keep making work, following my curiosities, challenging my own ideas of boundaries, and having fun in spite of (in spirit of) it all. Thanks a lot for your time and for sharing your thoughts, Ilvs. Finally, would you like to tell us readers something about your future projects? How do you see your work evolving? Well, my current future project is grad school (MFA in Interdisciplinary Studies, Simon Fraser). It’s been a while since I’ve been in school, and not having studied art in my undergraduate courses, I’m very excited and happy to be involved in this program. I’m using the smaller coursework assignments to explore video - how to incorporate it in live performance as a narrative element, as a scenic element, as an interactive element. It’s an exercise in technical theater, aesthetics and directorial decision making, exploring the possibilities within the medium within a medium. I imagine my future works to still be narrative based, but evolve through how the story is told. The use of technology (lights, sound, and now video) is really interesting to me - not necessarily the significance of human’s interaction with technology (phones, laptops, user interfaces), but technology as a way to manipulate sounds and images seamlessly and intricately in the context of a live performance. On a less technical note, a project I’m interested in exploring (and one that is a strong contender for my thesis project) is a work based on the Stations of the Cross. I started this during a two week residency through Base: Experimental Arts + Space in Seattle last October and have been ruminating on it ever since. I’m quite fond of the character of Jesus (I have been performing Him in a holiday show for going on 8 years now) (Jingle All the Gay - formerly Homo for the Holidays) and, having been named after St. Veronica (my middle name, minus the ‘St.’ part) of the 6th Station, have always had a fascination with the Stations. I’m curious about ideas of martyrdom vs agency, god complex, deus ex machina, the segmentation and focus on such a specific part of the timeline of one’s life, the complexities of the sacrosanct vs the profane. Also, the shadow side of the Catholic Church has been in the news a bunch as of late, so there’s a lot there to consider. I’m keen to see how the use of the aforementioned technology can create a layered story that is subtle/profound, mutable/fixed, able to be in multiple places (both spatially and temporally) at one time. In other words, neither here nor there. An interview by Francis L. Quettier and Dora S. Tennant [email protected] Women Cinemakers
Sapiently constructed and marked out with brilliant cinematography, is a captivating work by filmmaker London based Ilaria Falli: when inviting An interview by Francis L. Quettier and Dora S. Tennant [email protected] the viewers to inquire into the ideas of betrayal, guilt and self-sabotage, it triggers their perceptual categories with such a tapestry of sounds and images, creating effective mesmerizing narration. We are particularly pleased to introduce our readers to Falli's captivating and multifaceted artistic production. Ilaria Falli Women Cinemakers meets Guilt reflects in different forms. It creeps up on you, constantly torturing the back of your mind, leaving you with a few spare moments of ignorant bliss and little space for anything else. You’re welcome to try and kill your own thoughts with your spirit of choice. But you can’t suppress them, they won’t go away. You come to an acceptance that you will have to share the rest of your life with the choices you’ve made. An internal monologue on betrayal, guilt and self-sabotage. My most secret and haunting obsessions come alive in an imaginary red room suspended in time, where memories and regret intertwine. from Florence, Italy, based in London
Women Cinemakers Ilaria Falli Photo by Pietro Lazzaris
Women Cinemakers Hello Ilaria and welcome to : before starting to elaborate about your artistic production, we would ask you some questions about your background. Are there any experiences influence ? Moreover, could you tell us what are your biggest influences and how do they affect your ? Hello WomenCinemakers, thank you for featuring my work and giving me this opportunity to talk about it— it has been an invaluable retrospective for me. I recently graduated from a creative university in London where I studied Film and TV production. Uni was of course an influence, but if I’m being honest, not so much the lectures. It was the diverse and extroverted people in a setting of frequent exhibitions and learning to digest the dialogue between artist and audience that really changed my perspective on my practice. With my own insecurities and worries, I have always felt heldback from doing what I wanted. Seeing the artistic output of so many talented individuals gave me the confidence to make my own work and be proud of it. Seeing art makes you want to do your own art. It’s the ever- present London creative bubble that you get sucked into and eventually depend on. If we’re talking narrative, then… I have a big weak-spot for Jean-Luc Godard’s nouvelle vague work. His style is obviously marvellously iconic, but to me a lot of the allure comes from these films feeling so spontaneous and honest, yet full of hidden meanings; the ones he meant to portray and the ones we attribute as a thinking audience. interview
Women Cinemakers
Women Cinemakers
Women Cinemakers interview It’s like, the films that really get me are not the Inception-type of movies with very intricate plots or dazzlingly high budgeted Oscar nominees, I get that “I want to make movies exactly like that” feeling when I watch a brutally honest, gritty portrayal of British common life, say, by Andrea Arnold, or impressive studies of characters and relationships, like Gaspar Noè’s . Maybe I like looking at other people’s weaknesses because it makes me feel that we all love and suffer the same. For this special edition of we have selected , a captivating film that our readers have already started to get to know in the introductory pages of this article. What has at once captured our attention of your insightful inquiry into the ideas of betrayal, guilt and self-sabotage is the way it provides the viewers with such . While walking our readers through of , could you tell us how did you develop the initial idea? I initially wanted to write a script about the end of a love story. The film is the result of a long process, it was born as a narrative short film, which I turned into a more experimental piece of work. The idea stems from a breakup which I had, about a year before shooting the film. It came from knowing the pain that cheating can cause not only in the victim, but also in the perpetrator. In the writing of the first script, the more effort and time I put into building characters, the further they fell away from me. I started to feel a disconnect between what I was writing down and what was going on in my mind at the
time. There were correlations between the script and my inner thoughts, but it wasn’t until I decided to be honest with myself and discovered that I was far more excited about realising my inner confidence to make something of my own — that I knew the path to take. I was incredibly nervous and stressed during the shooting of the film and time was tight with the deadlines. It was at the very end that I decided to do commit myself to autobiographical work; I felt like I was doing something ‘right’ by following my gut. You could say there was some release. Featuring such captivating combination between enriched with a surreal atmosphere, what were you aesthetic choices when shooting and how did you structure the editing process in order to achieve such brilliant results ? I think if you make films nowadays, and especially if you learned them academically, there is so much that already exists, that it naturally just comes to you to make work that is a compound of everything you’ve seen; following
your gut becomes your methodology, to some extent. That being said, I was certainly aware of the harmonisation between what was happening on the screen and in my head in terms of colour, tone and nature. I shot widescreen to evoke the sense of suffocation one feels when trapped existentially by guilt. This idea of containment within the physical space is suggested through the visually perceived scale and geometry of the shots, but the tight framing hides the actual geography of the whole room, which appears immediately off-kilter. I wanted to throw the viewer into an untenable void which feels contained, yet also boundless and perpetual in the mind. This coincides with sensory distortion — the use of alcohol to cope with my guilt — and an uncomfortable motion between two realities. The monochromatic red lighting and prevailing shadows are meant to enhance the feeling of surrealism, coinciding with the idea that nothing feels very real when you are cheating, and a sort of expressionist way of portraying that state of mind through hue and tone. Red is also reminiscent of an
Women Cinemakers internal, womb-like space, like that of a darkroom, to express the notion of a latent image, where something is not what it appears to be, or perhaps hiding in plain sight. The movements, shots and sound all coalesce in the final work, but much of this cohesion was discovered in the making of the work, and especially during the editing process. I made the first cut myself, but I had shot in sections which I found difficult to stitch together, so I asked a friend who is an editor for help. A fresh approach to the work by an editor’s eye allowed the piece to really flow and when I thought I had reached an impasse, his suggestion to use over layered imagery in the frame as well as effective sound design, meant both became key impacting elements of the narrative arc’s climax. Many artists express the ideas that they explore through representations of the body and by using their own bodies in their creative processes. German visual artist Gerhard Richter once underlined that " ": how do you consider the relation between of the ideas you aim to communicate and of creating your artworks? I used Victoria because I can’t act. But I liked the idea of being in it myself, and so am the second figure which appears for a moment, but I don’t say anything. I am almost my selfconscious, where I remain silent in reply to my own anxieties. I see and hear them but don’t act or react. In this way, the making of the work itself, is my reply. It was the catharsis I needed, to deliver an honest voice to unload my anxieties and feelings of self-caused entrapment. It was an attempt to interview
Women Cinemakers
Women Cinemakers
Women Cinemakers return to being full circle — this was difficult coming from a overstrained and imbalanced state of being. In making works that deal with “aspects of reality that cannot be seen by the naked eye”—it is inevitable that you abstract the body, sublating it with the mind so they translate through the chosen medium. Richter masters conveying a messy consciousness in his paintings. I hoped to convey what was left of mine, battered into submission by the chaos of my situation. It became a necessity to let my pain and weaknesses come out. Where I had initially displaced myself in order to write a theoretically sound script to captivate an audience, I instead thought about what the work could be used for, rather than the filmic attribution of final piece itself. That is the self- medicating or cathartic nature of it. On catharsis, I had to release my secrets, to release myself from the heaviness caused by the lies - and just a few moments of myself being visible is evidence enough to attribute my name, like a signature on a painting. I have authenticated my acts as my own— a concept previously unthinkable and terrifying to me. I am exposed, it is it being out there which is the main concept to contend with for me. We like the way your intimate created entire scenarios out of . In you with the viewers' emotional sphere: what are you hoping will trigger in the spectatorship? I wanted this to be like a letter never sent, unspoken and voiceless, a truth that you never told but one that is necessary and that you feel compelled to tell… yet also in an equal and opposite amount, to never tell anyone at all. I think this is where the emotional interview
Women Cinemakers charge comes from. In a way, it remains unclear if this voice was ever spoken aloud at the time of the events, the audience of the film knows only that in retrospect it has been vocalised. I have always wanted to make relatable work, so by using personal experiences as a core, the work gains empathetic integrity and surpasses a vocal barrier I experienced at the time of breaking up with my ex-girlfriend. Despite the excruciating and twisting internal explosion, at the time I came across to her as an inexpressive and inaudible wall, unaffected and apathetic. I do wonder if she has seen it, what she would say, or if she would ever understand. The work broaches an area that often hangs in a silent limbo. If someone can relate to the purgatory I felt, I feel it has achieved its aim as a work. We daresay that the imaginary red room suspended in time, where memories and regret intertwine could be considered an effective allegory of and we have appreciated the way you created such powerful resonance between the body and its surroundings: how did you come up with the idea about this location? Moreover, how important is for you to provide your work with allegorical qualities? The idea is that the protagonist comes home drunk one night, hence the floor tiles moving at the beginning, which are supposed to resemble your head spinning — she then stares at herself in the mirror and starts thinking. I picked the bathroom as it is a familiar space, one that is supposed to feel homely, one you’ve shared with your partner many times, and now that you’re alone it feels disrupted and empty. But it still is a real place in a way, it is being inside her mind and talking to herself which is the allegorical aspect. For my interview
Women Cinemakers
A still from Women Cinemakers
Women Cinemakers own personal work it is important for this aspect to be explored as I find it both helps me in making and in translating feeling across film. However, that is not to say that I think there is anything wrong with making purely aesthetically beautiful work. As conceptual spaces, I think our inner-mind and the bathroom have a lot in common, and I find them easy for people to project feeling into, and to fill that space with their individual psyche. A lot of subconscious language is evoked by notions such as reflection and self-image making. How this develops takes place in both our minds and bathrooms of the world. How does your everyday life's experience fuel your creative process? In particular, how important was it for you to make , about a theme that you know a lot about? It was fundamental, it is all I wanted to do. I wouldn’t care about telling the story of a soldier in World War One. All of the works I want to make as director, I feel a strong desire from within to make them, both for myself and for others to hopefully find something in them. This monologue, for example, is all made up of notes I wrote before even thinking of making a film, while on the tube or the bus or just alone and I had all these thoughts going through my head, things that I wanted to say but I couldn’t tell anyone and then out of all these notes I had, I made the script. Anything can be fuel, really. This is why I want to make films about stuff that I know. I’ll see something happening in front of my eyes interview
Women Cinemakers and will think, “Wow, this could be in a film”, or “this could be such a cool shot” so I’ll write it down or try to draw something, to remember it and then maybe incorporate it into a project of mine. I wish I had a camera in my eyes to take snaps of what happens around me, because when I’m out I’m not really the kind of person that gets their phone out and takes a picture. I forget, or I’d rather just be there. I believe there’s a really crazy, incredibly interesting story to tell in everybody’s life, so I like to look around and chat to people. And I always try to live my life to the fullest, so I feel like I’d really like to share these stories and my perspective on concepts and worldly things. If I am not feeling the personal aspect explicitly, then I enjoy translating someone else’s vision most through working technically as DP. This position allows me to also suggest creative and technical solutions to narrative problems. We have appreciated the originality of your artistic research and before leaving this conversation we want to catch this occasion to ask you to express your view on the future of women in cinema. For more than half a century women have been from getting behind the camera, however in the last decades there are signs that something is changing. What's your view on ? I picked cinematography as my craft, which has always been male dominated and still is. However, I am quite amazed at how often I see women behind the camera in independent and short films now. It makes me so proud and happy to see women behind the lighting too. I work in a film and TV rental house in London, and used to do lots of driving for them, delivering kits to sets or production houses. A classic comment from people would be “Did they just send with all of this equipment?” or, “They interview
Women Cinemakers
could have sent a guy to help you!”— and they don’t even think they are saying anything bad. Mostly, I think the fact that there is more women directing in film is great because their perspective is undeniably unique. New ideas will inevitably emerge from a diverse crew as compared to one limited to the confines of a monocular age, race and sex. Not only for the representation of women, but it’s how someone sees the world or the story that they feel compelled to tell. I love Céline Sciamma’s work, especially and . It is not just about women, I feel a lot for LGBT+ directors as well. I find Xavier Dolan’s films so emotionally poignant and easy to connect to. It is amazing because so many new things will come out of this. In my course at university, all of the final major project films were directed by women. I thought that was very good. I think that a lot of women realise that they can be whatever they want now. I am looking forward to a widening directive proliferation of the female gaze. Thanks a lot for your time and for sharing your thoughts, Ilaria. Finally, would you like to tell us readers something about your future projects? How do you see your work evolving? I will keep working on my main career objective, to be a DP. I do a lot of working as a camera assistant/gaffer/spark. I am keen to learn from anything that helps to shape my knowledge of the craft. I categorise that pursuit as all real, tangible work. There is then the aspirations to work on projects that mean something to me and my personal growth. I think my next piece will be about exploring and discovering sexuality. I have a lot of thoughts in my head that I need to put together. It’s also about the challenging hypocrisy of the chemistry in love and why our brain makes us feel the way we do. How you can feel so compelled to act and commit so strongly to something you know full well will cause an onslaught of pain later. How we’re all a bit Bonobo in this way. In terms of my work evolving, I want to continue doing experimental work, but I would like to combine it with more commercial outlets. If I could express my ideas through music videos, that would be fantastic. I am currently working on a video with a friend for a very powerful song, which hits the intensity marker for the type of work I want to be creating. It is good that he doesn’t have that strong of a reason behind the song, he simply felt a certain way at the time of its conception. This means I can put more of myself into it and shape it in the way I want. I am excited for any projects that come my way and look forward to honing my skills alongside a diverse crew. I am very grateful to Womencinemakers and its readers for taking the time to engage with my work, . An interview by Francis L. Quettier and Dora S. Tennant [email protected]